.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-23-2014, 12:42 PM
Mauja Frosthjärta
With every step the Doctor took away from them, Mauja's urge to run after grew stronger and stronger. It was a battle between wisdom and loyalty, heart against mind; he clenched his jaws, drew a deep breath in. He had lost many things over the years, but this was one constant. He tried to hold on to that, even as he felt the ground sway beneath him to the rhythm of something unknown: he'd come back a changed man, oddly devoid of everything but distant, foolish hopes. Hope, that d'Artagnan would be found again. Hope, that he would still accept and embrace Mauja. Hope, that.. that things would work out.
"I have to ask - do the pair of you really go around slaughtering those without horns?" It was a turn of conversation he hadn't been expecting—something he wasn't ready to face. The final barrier between the soul's truth and the tongue's truth. He grew still as a statue in the sunlight, a freezing of every expression, and of his eyes. They grew harder, the set of his jaw firmer: what do you respond to that? Do you admit that your best friend is a cold-hearted killer, but that you've been getting cold feet about it for the past year or two? Is it betrayal, to do such? Betrayal of whom? Do you admit to trying to still hate them, and want to wipe them from the face of earth?
His cold heart pounded in the silence. Putting it like that.. it almost made him cringe. To think he'd once stood just beneath the gods, contemplating the murder of the brother of the one whom he was talking to. That his vision of greatness was a world in which the unicorns dominated—for the good of his people. But who was he, to decide such things? Who was he to say what was truth, and what wasn't? He was charismatic enough to lead armies, command the hearts of men, and to turn vileness into glorious truth. He yelled his own damnation to the skies but it came out a victory song.
So what do you say to that? Do you finally spit out that bit of truth—the cure your foolish, precious, naïve, wise brother spoke of?
His heart kept pounding. His cold, cold eyes turned to Nyx, ice swallowing up every single drop of sorrow, sick to the stomach with it.
He was not ready to face it. He was not ready to betray his family. He said nothing. Simply stared at her with those vast, glacial eyes.
"I have to ask - do the pair of you really go around slaughtering those without horns?" It was a turn of conversation he hadn't been expecting—something he wasn't ready to face. The final barrier between the soul's truth and the tongue's truth. He grew still as a statue in the sunlight, a freezing of every expression, and of his eyes. They grew harder, the set of his jaw firmer: what do you respond to that? Do you admit that your best friend is a cold-hearted killer, but that you've been getting cold feet about it for the past year or two? Is it betrayal, to do such? Betrayal of whom? Do you admit to trying to still hate them, and want to wipe them from the face of earth?
His cold heart pounded in the silence. Putting it like that.. it almost made him cringe. To think he'd once stood just beneath the gods, contemplating the murder of the brother of the one whom he was talking to. That his vision of greatness was a world in which the unicorns dominated—for the good of his people. But who was he, to decide such things? Who was he to say what was truth, and what wasn't? He was charismatic enough to lead armies, command the hearts of men, and to turn vileness into glorious truth. He yelled his own damnation to the skies but it came out a victory song.
So what do you say to that? Do you finally spit out that bit of truth—the cure your foolish, precious, naïve, wise brother spoke of?
His heart kept pounding. His cold, cold eyes turned to Nyx, ice swallowing up every single drop of sorrow, sick to the stomach with it.
He was not ready to face it. He was not ready to betray his family. He said nothing. Simply stared at her with those vast, glacial eyes.
A million miles from home, I'm frozen to the bones, I am... a soldier on my own, I don't know the way.
